


I'll Be There

by Dark Star Of Chaos (DarkDecepticon)



Series: A Traitor's Worth [2]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Angst and Humor, Canonical Character Death, Gen, Ghosts, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, Siblings, injuries
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:08:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27320239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkDecepticon/pseuds/Dark%20Star%20Of%20Chaos
Summary: Starscream swore to help the Decepticons survive after Unicron's attack, but that's no easy task for an invisible ghost. Especially one who can't even do the things a ghost is supposed to be able to do, like walk through walls. But when he discovers his siblings have survived, he finds a new reason to keep trying - and a way to help, if he can convince the Autobots' new Prime to trust him.
Series: A Traitor's Worth [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1860046
Comments: 19
Kudos: 35





	1. Dead and Alive

Being dead had its advantages. At least, that was what Starscream kept telling himself, though it was hard to believe when those “advantages” didn’t do him much good. Who cared that he could enter Autobot facilities without being seen if no one could hurt him anyway? What good was being safe from harm if he still felt the need to sneak around, and still went on the defensive every time someone startled him?

“You’d think survival instincts would be exclusive to things that are _alive_ ,” Starscream grumbled, addressing the sealed door in front of him. It stayed unmoving in the face of his irritation, just as it had for the ten minutes he'd so far spent trying to get through it. If only the mech who had just passed him in the hall had gone inside instead of scaring him.

Starscream sighed - another pointless reflex, since his vents no longer cycled air - and pressed both hands flat against the door. It was solid under his palms, though he couldn't feel the scratches that adorned its worn surface. Nor did it really feel smooth; it was just pressure, a pale imitation of the real thing. Just like everything else he touched.

He shook his head, dismissing the morose thought, and leaned on the door, focusing on its lack of substance. It had no texture, no temperature, no… anything. The door might as well have been a hologram, because his optics were the only thing telling him there _was_ a door. He should be able to pass right through.

Nothing happened. Just like the last three times he tried this.

Starscream slammed his fist against the unyielding pressure, but the impact made no sound. And he still didn't go through, which made absolutely no sense. He spent half his time these days trying _not_ to phase through solid objects. Why did it only happen when he didn't want it to?

He stepped back, glaring at the door. "What good is being incorporeal if you can't walk through walls?"

As though in reply, the door hissed open. Starscream jumped, then backed up further when a pair of mechs came through. They wore both Autobot and medical insignias, and both were visibly exhausted. But where one seemed frustrated, the other just stared blankly at the floor.

Starscream slipped by them, taking his chance to finally get through the door.

The small room beyond had clearly been repurposed as an operating theater. Harsh overhead lights illuminated silent machines and tables of medical instruments that had become familiar after millennia of war. Two more Autobots moved around the room, gathering used tools and turning off monitors.

At the center of it all, a motionless frame lay on a table, gray except for bright pink splashes of energon.

Starscream approached the body slowly. The bot was a heavy-set military model, but not a tankformer; some sort of armored transport vehicle, maybe. It was no one he recognized, but there was enough left of the battered chestplate to identify the bot as a Decepticon. One that, for whatever reason, the Autobots had tried to save.

"It's too bad they didn't succeed," Starscream murmured, stopping by the bot's head. He was only somewhat surprised that he meant every word, despite knowing nothing about this mech and who they had been. By now, he was used to the strange regret that came with finding members of his faction dead. Even the ones he had never known, and now never would.

He extended a hand, but stopped just short of the bot's shoulder. Unlike doors, bodies were easy to go through. Living ones more so, but he didn't enjoy sharing space with cadavers either.

Living bodies also felt different from dead ones; it was one of the few variations he could perceive through touch.

He didn't like the way lifeless bodies felt.

Starscream withdrew his hand.

* * *

Now that he was inside, Starscream could have left the room at any time. He could go wherever he wanted just by focusing on a person or location, as long as he had a specific destination in mind. But he chose to wait until the medical assistants left the room, taking the body with them. Then he followed, taking careful note of the doors they passed so he could come back to check on these rooms later. It took quite a while - sometimes a few days - to canvas an Autobot triage center when he couldn't open doors himself, but he tried not to think about it.

After all, he had no reason to track time anymore. It was just one more habit left over from being alive. One more thing the dead didn't need.

The Autobots' destination was a morgue. Starscream had known it would be; had counted on it, in fact. But he still hesitated when the doors opened, and was driven onward only by the knowledge that he would be stuck outside if he lingered too long. He may not have needed to track time anymore, but he was still tired of waiting for doors to open.

The morgue was considerably larger than the operating room they had just left. At least a dozen grayed out frames lay on the floor, lined up side by side on tarps. It was nothing Starscream hadn't seen before, but the degree of respect the Autobots afforded their dead enemies still surprised him. If their roles had been reversed, he wouldn't have thought twice about piling the corpses outside a smelter.

Starscream slowly made his way around the room, studying each body carefully. He only recognized one of them, and then, only by sight. Most were younger than he was; sparked at some point after the faction leaders left Cybertron. Some had likely never seen real combat, considering the Decepticons had effectively controlled the planet throughout their lifetimes.

Now they would never see a time of real peace either.

He stopped in the middle of the room, hands clenched into fists and optics fixed on the one bot he recognized. Why had this happened? Why _now,_ when the Decepticons had finally begun to rebuild Cybertron? When they had finally _won?_

Starscream wanted to blame the Autobots. They were the ones who had built those ridiculous lunar bases so they could continue the war from space. They were the ones who couldn't just accept that they had lost. He wanted to blame Megatron too, for letting his obsession with Optimus Prime kill him.

But Unicron would have come regardless. Nothing could have stopped that, or the destruction he brought with him. Nothing could have prevented the death that surrounded Starscream now. He hated that knowledge, and hated how powerless it made him feel, but some things were just too big to avoid. It wasn't fate like some might say, but it was a good reminder of why he loathed the concept.

There were things Starscream could have done differently, though. Things that wouldn't have happened if not for him.

A very large part of him wanted to just return to the Decepticon Crypt and stay there. But he’d made a promise to see his faction through this setback, even though he had absolutely no clue how he was going to do it. Not that a promise made to the spirits of the dead meant anything - it wasn’t like they could come after him if he broke it - but…

He shook his head, scattering the thoughts, and turned away from the bodies. There were other Decepticons in this triage center; bots who were still alive. It was time he tracked them down.

* * *

It hadn't taken long for Starscream to get a feel for how things were on Cybertron after he left the Decepticon Crypt. He knew from eavesdropping on the Doomsday Trine that a number of Decepticons were going into self-imposed exile on the planet Charr, but many still remained on Cybertron, both in hiding and in Autobot custody. The latter group mainly consisted of bots who were injured, or had friends and teammates who were. But while the Autobots were providing medical care to those who needed it, Starscream didn't trust their intentions. They had spent millions of years trying to kill Decepticons. Why help them now?

"I suppose a change of leadership could have something to do with it," Starscream muttered, following a medic down yet another hallway lined with doors. "We did take out most of their officers, after all."

He didn't feel as pleased by that as he should have. The Decepticons had lost most of their commanders as well, whether to death, exile, or betrayal. Shockwave was still alive, but currently no more than an injured prisoner, just like all the others. And though Unicron had devoured the moons, and the Autobots' lunar bases with them, the Decepticons had lost far more to his attack.

That final battle against the Autobots had cost them far too much.

The medic paused to key open a door, then Starscream followed him past a pair of guards and into a large room lined with berths. It looked just like every ward he had seen in other triage centers: damaged bots, beeping machines, and distrust on every face, regardless of faction. Starscream's whole purpose in being here was to search out survivors, but he couldn't help feeling bored by the monotony.

He glanced around the room, scanning the berths for anyone he recognized. Then his gaze fell on a gold and white Seeker, and he froze.

“Sunstorm?” he whispered.

Shock was replaced almost immediately by a wave of guilt. He hadn’t spared a thought for either of his siblings since… He couldn’t remember when. Before the attack on Autobot City. Admittedly, he’d had a _lot_ on his mind, being dead and all. But so many others had died during Unicron’s attack, it should have crossed his mind to wonder if they were all right.

Sunstorm, at least, seemed to be. He was hooked up to an IV unit and one leg was a mess of weld lines, held immobile by a brace, but he was awake and watching the medics warily. The Autobots kept throwing nervous glances at him, even though he was unarmed and cuffed to low rails on the berth. Afraid of his Sigma, no doubt, though Starscream could tell from the glowing bands on the cuffs that they were inhibiting that too.

For a moment, he considered moving on. But something - maybe his guilt - made it hard to just walk away. And it wasn’t like he had anywhere else to be.

Starscream approached the berth slowly, avoiding the medics and other obstacles more out of habit than necessity. Unsurprisingly, Sunstorm didn’t notice him. Up close, Starscream could see that his optics were dim and not quite focused, like he was being sedated. Hopefully it was just a painkiller, but the mere thought that it might be another layer of restraint made Starscream angry. He laid a hesitant hand on the railing, and was distantly grateful when he didn’t go right through it, like he usually did with smaller objects.

Did Sunstorm know Starscream was dead? Sibling bonds weren't usually that strong except in the case of split-spark twins, but they _had_ hatched from the same egg. Spark twins or frame twins, it seemed wrong that two bots could come into the world together and not feel the loss when one of them left it.

Of course, they had never been especially close. Sunstorm's religious obsession had conflicted too much with Starscream's more scientific approach to the world, and the war had driven them further apart rather than bringing them together. Sunstorm probably _did_ know Starscream was gone, even if only through word of mouth, but that didn't mean he considered it a loss.

Starscream's shoulders slumped. He turned away, letting his hand fall through the railing.

Forget about looking for survivors here. He wanted to know where Slipstream was.

* * *

Thanks to Starscream’s newfound ability to teleport to people, she wasn’t hard to find. She was crouched in the mouth of a small cave, somewhere outside the wreckage of Kaon. Two other Seekers Starscream recognized as her Trine were huddled behind her. But he didn’t know either of them particularly well, so he spared them only a glance before kneeling beside Slipstream. Her armor was crusted with dried energon, but aside from a few laser burns, she seemed unharmed. She glared out over a canyon, optics scanning the shadowy ground below. Oblivious to Starscream's presence.

Starscream sighed and shut off his own optics. Both of his siblings were alive, then. Possibly unaware of each other's survival, but alive. They'd been luckier than he had.

In a rush, relief turned to jealousy. Did they _know_ how lucky they were? Did they know how much he would love to be in either of their positions right now? In hiding from the Autobots was better than dead. Captured and drugged was better than _dead_. Did either of them appreciate what they still had, or were they just resentful of what they'd lost?

He looked at Slipstream again, and his anger bled away. What if it was the opposite? What if they were so glad to still be alive that they didn't care about anything else? Or any _one_ else? What if, like Starscream, they hadn't spared even a moment to wonder about their siblings?

Slipstream turned away, moving deeper into the cave to join her companions. Starscream watched her go, feeling suddenly exhausted. No. They were better than he was, and had a better relationship than he'd had with either of them. They would at least worry about each other.

"Story of my life," Starscream muttered. His Trine had been the same way: always more concerned about each other than about him. Of course, they'd ultimately died because of him, so maybe they had been right not to get too close. Or maybe they _had_ been too close. Maybe they would still be alive now if they'd never known him.

Starscream snorted and stood. "Little late to wish you'd never been sparked, don't you think?" he asked himself drily.

He chose not to answer.


	2. Ghost Sighting

After a few days of wandering Cybertron, Starscream thought he was beginning to understand, just a little, why Skywarp had been so… helpless without someone telling him exactly what to do. Starscream could go anywhere he wanted just by thinking, but if he didn't have a specific destination in mind, he found himself with too many options to make a decision. And knowing his surroundings could change at any moment made him feel somehow lost, even when he knew exactly where he was.

"I wish I could tell him that," Starscream said, leaning against the wall beside Sunstorm's berth. “Who’d have thought unlimited movement could be so paralyzing?”

Sunstorm continued to sip at a cube of energon without so much as a glance at Starscream. He still wore the Sigma-inhibiting cuffs, but they weren’t attached to the railing anymore. Apparently the Autobots had decided to trust him to some extent - and a lot of other Decepticons, from what Starscream had seen. He could only imagine what they were thinking to allow so much freedom, but if any of the ‘patients’ had tried to take advantage of the situation, he hadn’t been there to witness it.

“And yeah, I know you’d say to talk to him anyway,” Starscream went on, heedless of the fact that he couldn’t be heard. “Probably along with some feel-good platitude about how dead doesn’t mean gone. Hate to break it to you, but being dead myself, I can confirm that he’s definitely gone. Talking to him would do me about as much good as talking to you. And you aren’t exactly an attentive audience.”

Sunstorm flicked his wings restlessly, frame tensing when a medic drew near. But the mech passed the berth with only a quick glance in his direction and he relaxed again, going back to his energon. Starscream ignored the medic, having spent enough time watching him to be confident that he took his work seriously, regardless of faction.

Since his first visit, Starscream had divided most of his time between Sunstorm and Slipstream. It hurt to know they couldn't see or hear him, but he needed somewhere to go when the possibilities became overwhelming, and the only logical alternative was the Crypt. Considering he didn't trust himself to not stay if he went back, his siblings seemed like the better option.

Besides, he wanted to keep an optic on them. A couple medics doing their jobs didn't mean Sunstorm was safe, and Slipstream and her Trine were still in hiding. If anything happened to them, he wanted to know. Even if he couldn't do anything, he wanted the chance to try.

He hadn't intended to start talking to them. But after the initial awkwardness, he'd come to enjoy being able to say whatever was on his mind, safe in the knowledge that no one else would hear it.

"I haven't heard from Primus, by the way," he said, leaving the wall to perch on the foot of the berth instead. "Maybe he doesn't want me, and that's why I'm stuck here. Which isn't very charitable of a god whose big afterlife thing is all sparks becoming one, but it would be typical of my luck."

He shifted to sit cross legged, not liking the sight of the rails passing through him. "And for the record, I'm  _ not _ saying Primus is real. But I  _ died _ and I'm still here, and Unicron is definitely real. If Primus wanted to show up and prove he exists too, I guess I wouldn't be too surprised at this point."

Sunstorm raised his wings, suddenly very interested in something further down the aisle. Starscream twisted to follow his gaze. Two Autobots had just entered the ward: one a large blue and white mech, the other magenta with an optic-catching flame pattern.

Starscream rolled his optics and turned back to Sunstorm. "Okay, the timely appearance of a Prime is  _ not _ proof of Primus. Just so we're clear." He shot another, more suspicious look at the newcomers, who were now speaking with one of the medics. "What is he doing here?"

Starscream hadn't paid much attention to the new Prime. The mech was obviously young, and it seemed far more likely that he was acting as a figurehead than a real leader. Surely even the Autobots weren't silly enough to give a young bot so much responsibility just because a shiny rock 'chose' him. The other mech, Ultra Magnus, was probably the real power behind the throne.

Figurehead or not, Starscream could only think of two reasons why the Prime would put on an appearance in a mere triage center, and they were both political.

“What do you think?” he asked, glancing at Sunstorm. “Is it a publicity stunt to make them look good, or is it some sort of ‘we’re kind and merciful as long as you do what we want’ speech? I suppose it could be both, depending on what sort of script they gave him...”

Starscream trailed off as he turned back to the Autobots. The Prime was looking in their direction, optics wide. Starscream cast a quick glance over his shoulder, but none of the other berths held anyone important. So either the Autobot had seen someone he knew, or…

“Can he…? He can’t  _ see _ me, can he?” Starscream lowered his voice to a whisper, suddenly afraid of being overheard. It was ridiculous when he’d spent what felt like weeks trying to figure out how to be noticed, but if someone was going to see him, an Autobot Prime wouldn’t have been his first choice.

The medic they were talking to seemed annoyed by the Prime’s distraction. Starscream couldn’t make out the words, but his tone had shifted to an icy politeness reminiscent of Hook. The Prime gave an embarrassed sounding reply, but his optics flicked, unmistakably, back to Starscream. He  _ could _ see him.

After a few more moments of conversation, the Prime and Ultra Magnus moved toward one of the berths nearest the entrance. Starscream watched them nervously, no longer speaking. Sunstorm couldn’t hear him anyway. But if the Prime could see him, he might be able to hear him too. Several quick glances came his way as the two Autobots moved through the room, stopping briefly at each berth to speak to Decepticons who looked as restless as Starscream felt. The odds that the Prime could actually do anything to him were slim, but being spotted had triggered instincts that didn’t want to just sit and watch an enemy approach.

When the Autobots were only one berth away, Starscream moved to stand next to Sunstorm instead. It was a protective stance, and one he knew he couldn’t act on, but he didn’t care. The Prime had no way of knowing what Starscream could or couldn’t do.

”Rodimus Prime, I presume,” Sunstorm said as the Autobots approached him. His voice was hoarse, either from disuse or damage.

“And I guess you’re Sunstorm,” the Prime - Rodimus - replied. “I’ve heard a few things about you.”

“I would guess those ‘things’ can be summarized as ‘unholy demon from the Pit’,” Sunstorm said.

Rodimus' lips twitched. "Something like that. Actually, I'd heard you're religious. Like, really religious."

Sunstorm drew himself up, wings flaring. "If you think to sway me to your side by virtue of your station, you've made a grave error in judgement. Even the Thirteen found traitors in their midst."

Rodimus reset his optics. Beside him, Ultra Magnus frowned.

"I don't know what that bit about traitors is supposed to mean," Rodimus said, "but I'm not trying to sway anybody. I'm just here to see how everyone's doing."

"You willingly walk among those your kind dismisses as undeserving of fair treatment?" Sunstorm sounded skeptical, and Starscream was right there with him.

But Rodimus was frowning too, now. "Are you talking about the cuffs, or is someone here giving you trouble? I told them not to-"

"I'm talking about the cause of this war," Sunstorm interrupted. "Discrimination against frametypes. Or did you fail to notice most of the Decepticons in this room are Seekers?"

Rodimus' frown deepened. "Are we talking  _ current _ discrimination, or…?"

Sunstorm was silent for a few moments, then lowered his head, seeming to focus on the half-cube of energon he still held. "I have been decently treated. Considering my status as your prisoner."

"Okay. Great. So about that last part. I'm just making sure everyone knows, but we're not doing the whole trials and war crimes thing. As far as I'm concerned, if you all can play nice for a few years, we're just gonna drop charges and figure out peace together."

Starscream narrowed his optics suspiciously, and Sunstorm raised his head again. "I can't imagine many of your followers agree with that decision."

Rodimus shrugged. "Yeah, well. I guess being put on trial by Quintessons soured me on the whole thing. Besides, you can get away with a lot when you're the Prime who defeated Unicron."

He sounded faintly bitter, though Starscream couldn't imagine why. The ability to make such controversial decisions and get away with it sounded like a dream come true. And he was convinced that it  _ was _ Rodimus' decision; Starscream didn't know much about Ultra Magnus, but he seemed like the sort to play things safe. Controversy wasn't his style.

"What  _ did _ you mean about some of the Thirteen being traitors?" Ultra Magnus asked.

For possibly the first time in his life - afterlife? - Starscream hoped the question was simple religious curiosity. Because if it wasn't, Sunstorm was about to get in trouble for blasphemy. Apparently Sunstorm realized it too, because he pulled his good leg to his chest and didn’t answer immediately.

“You know what, I don’t think that really matters,” Rodimus said, shooting Ultra Magnus a look. “You don’t trust us, and we don’t really trust you. We’re all on the same page here, so how about we don’t make a big deal about it?”

“No. You’re right,” Ultra Magnus replied. “I just wondered.”

Starscream didn’t trust the easy surrender. He stepped closer to Sunstorm, wings flared protectively, and Rodimus’ optics flicked in his direction for a brief moment.

“Not all of the Primes stayed true to the values held by Primus,” Sunstorm said slowly, running a finger along the edge of his energon cube. “The simple fact that you are one doesn’t assure me that you truly care about all Cybertronians.”

“Fair enough,” Rodimus said. “So, uh, one more question. You knew Starscream, right?”

Both Seekers, living and dead, tensed, and Ultra Magnus turned a startled gaze on Rodimus.

“Knew. Yes,” Sunstorm said quietly.

Rodimus nodded. “Hypothetically speaking, what reason would he have had to be interested in you?”

Starscream backed away, staring back and forth between Sunstorm and Rodimus, the latter of whom glanced his way again when he moved. Sunstorm was silent for several seconds, then sighed, wings dipping slightly.

“He was my brother.”

* * *

Starscream didn’t stick around after Sunstorm’s confession. At that moment he wanted to be somewhere else,  _ anywhere _ else, and ‘anywhere’ turned out to be high in the sky. After a moment of confusion he spotted a familiar lavender and teal jet and transformed to catch up with Slipstream.

“He can see me!” he announced without preamble. “The Prime can see me! I mean, not the one we spent millions of years fighting, the new Prime. Rodimus. He can see me!”

Starscream didn’t know if he was excited or worried. If Rodimus could see him, there was a possibility that they could communicate, and if they could communicate - assuming Rodimus was reasonable - Starscream might have just found a way to interact with the physical world.

On the other hand, Rodimus was an Autobot, and Starscream was a Decepticon who’d been unpopular even with his own faction. It was entirely possible that he wouldn’t want anything to do with Starscream. He might even try an exorcism, if he believed in such things. But even if he didn't, he was an  _ Autobot _ . Granting medical aid to prisoners of war was one thing, but actively helping the faction as a whole to recover was something else entirely.

"But what if he didn't  _ know _ he was helping?" Starscream mused aloud. He rolled away from Slipstream, then slid back in to fly under her. "He seems like the naive sort. Would you believe he thinks Autobots and Decepticons could work out peace together? If you ask me, if the Autobots are going to be so short sighted as to let an idealistic young fool make the big decisions, they don't deserve to be in charge of a planet."

Slipstream banked without warning, passing through Starscream's wing on her way down. It felt like being slammed into from the inside, and Starscream wobbled despite the lack of physical impact. He recovered himself with a muttered curse and followed her.

"It could work, though," he continued. "I just have to convince him that everything he's heard about me was Autobot propaganda, or… Or any sort of smear campaign, really, I have enough enemies. Just play nice, get him to trust me, and then…"

He rolled again, too excited now to maintain his flight path. "Do you realize I could end up in control of the  _ Autobots _ ? I could have  _ both _ factions, and Cybertron itself, with the Prime as the conduit for my rule. I could have it all!"

He transformed alongside Slipstream, landing on top of a cliff. Slipstream strode away from the edge to duck inside a cave in a wall next to them. Starscream trailed after her, mind still racing with possibilities, until one of Slipstream's companions drew him from his thoughts.

"No luck?"

Slipstream snorted. "There's nothing out here. Unless you can turn lead into energon."

The mech, a pale green and blue Conehead called Dusk, sighed. "That's not really my specialty, no."

Slipstream sank down on the floor opposite him and dropped her head back against the wall. "How's Wind doing?" she asked the ceiling.

Dusk glanced down at the purple femme curled into his side. “She’s... managing.”

“Managing,” Slipstream repeated flatly.

Dusk averted his gaze and didn’t reply.

Starscream glanced back and forth between them, feeling suddenly awkward. After a few moments he reminded himself that they didn’t know he was there and hesitantly moved closer to get a better look at Windfall. He had realized during an earlier visit that the dried energon on Slipstream’s frame must have belonged to the third of her companions, because Windfall was in far worse condition than either of the other Seekers. She was missing most of one wing, and the pattern of scorch marks and weld lines on her torso looked like she’d lost it to an explosion. Starscream had only seen her awake once or twice, and she hadn’t been very responsive then.

Had it been up to him, he probably would have declared her a lost cause and left her for dead long ago. Actually, he definitely would have: a bot who would cast aside his own Trine wouldn’t hesitate to do the same to a stranger.

Suddenly, the small space felt suffocating. Starscream retreated from the cave to stand in the entrance, peering at the shadowed forms within. He shook out his wings, trying to rid himself of the lingering claustrophobia, and turned away to stare at the sky.

He could, in theory, talk the new Prime around to his way of thinking and take control of Cybertron that way. But that wasn’t what he’d promised to do, was it? He’d only sworn to make sure the Decepticons survived, and putting his own desires first… Well, that was what had gotten him and almost everyone he cared about killed, wasn’t it? If he had spared a thought for anyone but himself, maybe no one would have died.

He stepped away from the cave and began to pace restlessly. That wasn’t right. No matter what had happened, a  _ lot _ of people would have died. Starscream might have been responsible for… some deaths, but the fact that Unicron attacked in the first place wasn’t his fault. Any or all of the bots who had been tossed into space could have instead died to Unicron, and the only difference would be that Starscream would feel less guilt for his part in it. Frag, Starscream himself might still have died in such a scenario. But if he hadn’t… What would he have done if he hadn’t?

Starscream stepped up to the edge of the cliff, gazing at the ground far below. If he had been alive after the attack, and in any shape to do so, he would have been organizing search and rescue missions. Or he liked to think he would have been. But he’d have done it to show off, and to garner support from the other Decepticons. Not that it really mattered  _ why _ he would have done it - altruism was a nice idea, but most bots were motivated by personal gain. The point was  _ what _ he would have done. Wasn’t it?

Of course, even if he’d been alive to look for survivors, there would still have been the Autobots to worry about. Much as it galled him to be helpless, Starscream didn’t see how  _ anyone _ could have changed how things had turned out. Even Megatron couldn’t have done anything with this mess. But if Starscream had survived…

He turned to look back at the cave, brows furrowed. If he had survived, he would have been just as helpless as he was now. Except he wouldn’t have known who had lived or died, or who might have lived had they received medical care in time. He would have ended up on the run like Slipstream, captured like Sunstorm, or in self-imposed exile with who knew how many other Decepticons. None of those were positions from which he could have helped anyone left on Cybertron.

But maybe in his current state, he  _ could _ do something. He had all the knowledge now that he wouldn’t have had if he’d survived, and Rodimus, who was offering medical care to captured Decepticons, could see him. The situation was far from ideal, given the Decepticons involved were prisoners, but if that was what it took to survive… And if Starscream could talk Rodimus into doing more of what he already was doing…

He growled in frustration and glared at the ground again. “Primus had better exist,” he said. “Because if my dying turns out to be the best thing that could have happened to the Decepticons, I’m going to need  _ someone _ to yell at.”


	3. A Deal

Starscream waited until the light at the planet's core had dimmed, casting Cybertron’s surface in shadow, before focusing his thoughts on Rodimus Prime. He braced himself to appear in a crowded room - an unpleasant experience he'd unfortunately had multiple times - but instead found himself in a well-lit hallway, alone except for the Prime himself. Despite how much time he spent jumping around these days, it still took Starscream a few seconds to make sense of his surroundings afterward, and by the time he'd processed the hallway, Rodimus was staring at him.

Starscream narrowed his optics. “Has no one told you it’s rude to stare?”

“Uh… Sorry,” Rodimus said. He glanced around quickly, maybe to make sure they were alone, and added more quietly, “I don’t suppose you’re just looking for another Decepticon? Or pretty much anyone who isn’t me?”

“You can see me,” Starscream said matter-of-factly. _And hear me_ , he added silently, with an inward sigh of relief.

Rodimus made a face, apparently realizing that he was, in fact, who Starscream was looking for. “Look, can we talk somewhere private? I’ve got enough to deal with without people thinking I’m going crazy.”

Starscream snorted. “You think you have problems? Try being dead.”

“Yeah, I’ll pass.” Rodimus started walking and Starscream followed, wings twitching nervously. Primus, but he hoped this worked out the way he wanted it to.

Rodimus paused to key open a door, then looked at Starscream. “I guess you don’t really need doors anymore, but…” He motioned to the doorway, inviting Starscream to go first.

A hundred unmoving doors flashed through Starscream’s mind, and he grimaced. “Don’t remind me,” he muttered, stalking past Rodimus. With any luck, he would think Starscream was referring to his incorporeal condition.

The room beyond appeared to be a relatively spartan set of quarters. The main sitting area held a table and chair, with a few more chairs along one wall and a small chill unit in the corner. Across from the entryway was another door that presumably led to the berthroom. Starscream took it in with a glance, then snorted.

“Awfully modest dwellings for a Prime. I’ve seen dungeons that were more welcoming.”

“I’ll make sure to put interior decorating on my to-do list,” Rodimus said drily, heading for the chill unit. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to refuel. I’d offer you something, but, y’know.”

Starscream threw a glare at his back and decided to make himself comfortable in the chair at the table. Maybe it was petty, but stealing a seat seemed like suitable revenge for the comments about his physical state. He settled in carefully, wary of falling through, but though the chair didn’t quite feel solid, it held him.

“Yeah, just… Make yourself at home,” Rodimus muttered. He left an energon cube on the table and pulled up one of the chairs lining the wall. “Hey, you’re not here to haunt me, are you?”

“I can promise that if I was, neither of us would be happy,” Starscream said. “I have better things to do with my time than watch some youngling play at being a leader.”

Rodimus scowled, dropping into his own chair in an undignified sprawl. “Tell you what, if you stop talking about me being a Prime, I’ll stop talking about you being a ghost.”

Starscream couldn’t help wincing at the word. “I suppose that’s reasonable.”

“Great. Now that we’ve settled that, would you mind telling me what you’re doing here?”

“You don’t seem too surprised that I _am_ here,” Starscream noted.

“I saw you with Sunstorm earlier,” Rodimus said. “So I knew you were around. And anyway, you aren’t the first ghost I’ve seen lately.”

"You've seen others?" Starscream was too surprised to complain about the 'ghost' label. "There are others?"

"You haven't seen them? I'd have thought you'd all be able to see each other."

"No I haven't," Starscream snapped. "You're the first person who's actually spoken to me in weeks."

"Oh." Rodimus drummed his fingers against his cube, looking suddenly uncomfortable.

"At any rate, I'm not here for conversation," Starscream continued quickly, hoping to fend off pity. "I want to know what your plans are for the Decepticons left on Cybertron."

Rodimus shrugged. "Find them. Fix them up if they need it. If they're willing to stop fighting they'll get a chance to help rebuild Cybertron and have their own places, and if not I guess we'll have to lock them up."

"You aren't worried about them reorganizing and resuming the war while your back is turned?"

"Not really."

Starscream stared at him. "How… trusting of you."

"It's not trust," Rodimus corrected. "I just don't think most of the Decepticons who're left on Cybertron were combatants in the first place."

"You… Don’t?"

Rodimus sighed and leaned back in his chair. "Listen, I know the war is older than I am, but you can't live around Kup and not pick up some history. I’ve heard about how the Autobots sent a lot of civilians off-planet when you guys really started taking control of the skies. But as far as anyone knows, the Decepticons never did."

"Of course not!" Starscream scoffed. "We were _winning_."

"Sure," Rodimus agreed evasively. "But that means all the Decepticon-aligned civilians stayed on Cybertron, raising families and running businesses and… you know, not fighting. Most of them that I've spoken to so far haven't ever seen combat. And I figure, it's not right to treat them like prisoners of war when all they did was support their own side."

Starscream didn't know what to say. He ran his fingers along the edge of the table, testing how hard he could press down without going through it. "And the soldiers?" he asked at length. "Why show them mercy when they've killed your bots?"

"Well, for one thing, a lot of them haven't," Rodimus said. "I've seen how young some of them are. Yeah, they might have been trained to fight, but they sure haven't seen combat. But aside from that, Unicron just killed, like, half your population. The only thing most bots care about right now is finding their families. I just… Putting people in prison and separating everyone from whoever they have left just seems needlessly cruel, you know?"

"I think you've forgotten who you're talking to," Starscream muttered. "Needless cruelty is what we Decepticons are good at."

It was what Starscream was good at, anyway. He couldn't imagine looking at a decimated population, civilian or otherwise, and seeing anything but an opportunity.

"Hey, you asked," Rodimus said. "Why do you want to know, anyway? No offense, but you _are_ dead. We can't really do anything to you."

Starscream balled his hands into fists in his lap and stared at the table. He had come here prepared to call Rodimus out on his inevitable hypocrisy and convince him to help the Decepticons. The last thing he'd expected was an honest desire to help just because people needed it, and now he found himself with a completely different problem: how to convince Rodimus that the Decepticons' most infamous traitor really wanted to help as well.

"Are you still looking for survivors?" he asked, deciding to keep the focus off himself entirely if possible.

"Yeah. We'll probably never find everyone, but I want to find as many as we can."

Starscream nodded and looked up from the table. "I can help with that. _If_ you promise that the Decepticons will be treated fairly, and not forced to pledge any sort of allegiance to the Autobots in exchange."

It occurred to him as he spoke that Rodimus might not need Starscream's help, never mind want it. If he had seen other… dead bots roaming around, he might already have some of them helping him. Starscream might be completely unnecessary.

"Really?" Rodimus asked doubtfully. "That's all you want?"

Starscream shrugged, trying for nonchalance. "I know the value of my help. You don't _need_ me. But if you want to find bots who might not make it otherwise…"

He trailed off, allowing Rodimus to draw his own conclusions. Rodimus frowned at the half-consumed energon in front of him, then at Starscream.

"Why do you want to help the Decepticons at all? You aren't exactly the altruistic type."

"I have my reasons," Starscream said. "What you _should_ be thinking about is the fact that I've decided to trust the leader of my enemies with my faction. I don't trust easily."

Rodimus raised a brow. "I would guess that having nothing left to lose personally makes it easier for you."

Starscream's fists tightened against his legs. "Do we have a deal?" he pressed.

For a long moment, Rodimus just stared at him, idly rubbing his own chin. Then he sighed and let his hand fall to the table. "All right. Sure. We have a deal."

Starscream relaxed and allowed his face to settle into a smile. “Wonderful,” he purred, checking his navigation system for coordinates. “In that case, you can find the first group at-”

He fell abruptly silent. The coordinates for Slipstream’s group weren’t displaying on his HUD. His _own_ coordinates weren’t displaying. There wasn’t even a map of the areas he had been to countless times, both living and dead. All he saw was the single white dot that marked his location on an empty expanse.

“Is something wrong?”

Starscream refocused his gaze on Rodimus. What could he say when he didn’t even know the answer?

In the end he said nothing and just willed himself away, to the first place that crossed his mind.

* * *

Starscream curled up on his side and stared into the flickering flames of the torch at the center of the room. It had taken a lot of twisting to find a position on his Crypt marker that allowed him to lie down without going through the unfinished statue that adorned it. Now that he had, he didn’t want to move. He wasn’t sure he ever wanted to move again.

He shut off his optics and reluctantly turned his attention to the internal visual system of his HUD. His nav system was still running, but there was still nothing to see. Nothing but that lone white dot.

He dismissed the display and lay in total darkness, aware of nothing but the pressure of the pedestal below him. On impulse he activated his radar, but nothing came back to him. This time he wasn’t surprised, though. He’d discovered early that his radar didn’t work in his current state, and had concluded that it made sense. He no longer existed on the physical plane, so of course his radar couldn’t interact with it. But somehow it hadn’t occurred to him that other instruments might not function either.

Now that it had, that made sense too. Navigation in Cybertronians worked via an intricate system of maps, equations, and data collected by a variety of sensors. And as a background process, no conscious thought was required except to access coordinates and check directional headings. The rest was automatic. And no Cybertronian ever got lost unless they entered an unmapped region or their nav system was damaged. To know exactly where one was at all times was an inextricable part of _being_ a Cybertronian.

And now Starscream had no idea.

He reactivated his optics and stared into the fire once more, then sat up. After a few moments he raised a hand and studied it, front and back, then snapped his fingers. The resulting sound was flat, lacking an echo, but he could hear it. He let his hand fall to his side and looked down at his own feet, listening to the soft crackle of flames.

“I don’t understand,” he whispered. “My optics still work. My audios still work. I can still see and hear the physical world. Why can’t I perceive it in any other way?”

The statues of fallen Decepticons that loomed around him gave no answer.

Starscream glared at the ground, then shoved himself to his feet. He couldn’t worry about that now. He might have all the time in the world, but Windfall didn’t. If he was going to help her, or anyone, he couldn’t let the limitations of his current form stop him. There would be time to figure out the inconsistencies later.

“All right,” he muttered. “If I can’t use my nav systems to pinpoint their location, I’ll just have to try something else. Something like…”

A distant memory surfaced. A memory of uncharted planets and strange landscapes that had no maps for nav systems to utilize. Of using stars as guides and building satellites to take pictures that would later be turned to fully-rendered, 3D maps.

A painful memory of better times.

Starscream frowned up at the flickering shadows of the ceiling high above him. Cybertron had no sun, and thanks to Unicron, it no longer had moons either. But it did have landmarks, and stars that had become familiar in the years since the Decepticons had returned to the planet. And with or without his nav systems, Starscream still remembered the calculations to figure out coordinates on alien worlds. It might not be accurate to the last degree, but he could triangulate Slipstream’s rough position with the information he had available. It would have to be enough.

He took another look around at the statues that filled the room, reminding himself of why he was doing this. Then he took a deep ventilation and turned his thoughts to Slipstream, hoping he had time to figure out where she actually was.

* * *

Starscream’s chronometer no longer worked - he had noticed that quite early after his death - but judging by how dim the light at Cybertron’s core was, he returned to the room where he had left Rodimus only a couple hours after his initial visit. Rodimus was still there, an empty energon cube in front of him and a datapad in hand. He looked tired and frustrated, with his forehead resting in his free hand, but Starscream didn’t care what trivial Autobot thing he was busy with.

“I need a map,” Starscream said without preamble.

Rodimus jumped, datapad slipping from his fingers, and sat up straight to stare at him. “What the- Oh, you’re back. Where do you keep disappearing to?”

“We don’t have time for that,” Starscream said impatiently. “Do you have a map of Cybertron available or not?”

“Well, yeah, but why do you need that?”

“We don’t have time for that either,” Starscream snapped, unwilling even in death to admit to what was widely considered a disability among Cybertronians. “Just show me the map!”

“All right, all right, here.” Rodimus picked up the datapad he’d dropped and changed the display. An image of Cybertron replaced the text there, rotating slowly.

Starscream felt strangely hollow as he frowned at the map. While recent, it still predated Unicron’s attack, and showed none of the damage that had been inflicted on the planet. Only Cybertron as it had been after the Decepticons made extensive repairs to the architecture.

He dismissed the thought, though the ache was harder to ignore, and said, “Zoom in on the southeast quadrant. Near Kaon’s edge.”

Rodimus did as instructed, which was a welcome change of pace from the frequent questioning that had followed Starscream’s orders when he told Decepticons to do something. He discarded that thought too, and scanned the map for the canyon Slipstream’s Trine had taken shelter in.

“Here.” Starscream pointed to the spot where a low mountain range met up with the canyon. “You’ll find them on the west side of the crevasse, somewhere in this area.”

“Near the crevasse on the west side, huh?” Rodimus glanced up at him. “Sure you can’t be a bit more specific than that?”

“It’s a Trine of Seekers,” Starscream scoffed. “How am I supposed to know _exactly_ where they’ll be when you find them?”

Rodimus shrugged. “Fair. Anyone else with them?”

Starscream hesitated, then shook his head. “They’re alone,” he said. It felt strange to admit such a weakness to an enemy. Unnatural, even.

“Well, great,” Rodimus said. “I’ll pull a team together and get Sky Lynx to-”

“No shuttles,” Starscream interrupted. “If you approach Seekers who feel vulnerable from the air, they’ll shoot first and ask questions later. You’ll do better to stay on the ground where they feel better able to escape.”

Rodimus raised a brow. “And we know they won’t just fly away because…?”

Again, Starscream didn’t answer immediately. But the information might encourage the Autobots to hurry up, so he grudgingly admitted, “One of their number is badly damaged. They won’t try to fly away with her unless there’s no other choice.”

“A ground approach, then,” Rodimus agreed. “But we’ll still need someone who can carry the injured back.”

“That’s your problem, not mine. Just make sure you put someone in charge who isn’t going to go in all guns blazing. Energon _will_ be spilled if you let some hot-tempered loudmouth near Slipstream.”

Rodimus nodded. “Sure. And while they’re doing that, you can show me where more Decepticons are hanging out.”

“I’ll do no such thing!” Starscream said. “Not until I’ve seen proof that you can take a group in without beating them into submission.”

For a moment Rodimus looked like he would argue, but then he relaxed marginally. “A show of faith. Is that it?”

“You could say that.” Starscream stepped back from the table and flicked his wings, feeling suddenly uncomfortable. How long had it been since he’d been a part of a strategy meeting and truly felt like he had contributed?

“Okay. You win,” Rodimus said. “You’re not gonna trust us until we earn it, so if you want to see a rescue team in action before you commit, fine. But if this is a trap, our deal is off.”

“It’s not,” Starscream replied. “Smart of you to be prepared for the possibility, though. Your predecessor wasn’t nearly so wary.”

Rodimus tensed up again. Starscream didn’t stick around to see whatever damage he had done and instead willed himself into the hallway outside the room. He didn’t want to be so far away that he couldn’t watch how this played out, but nor did he want to waste time listening to an Autobot defend a dead Prime. As long as Rodimus thought he was gone, that was all that mattered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Need more ghostly Starscream? Check out [To Ashes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25679374) by grayseeker - part one of an epic SkyStar adventure!


	4. Family Reunion

Starscream was no stranger to temporary alliances between Autobots and Decepticons. More pressing concerns than the war had come up many times on Earth, so working with his enemies wasn't the strangest thing he'd ever had to do. Even so, flying above a trio of Autobot alts and not trying to shoot them felt surreal.

"Like anything else has been normal lately," he scoffed, rolling impatiently from side to side. The Autobots were far too slow for his liking. He had to keep jumping ahead to their destination and make sure Slipstream’s group was still there just to avoid losing his mind.

It had taken a frustratingly long time for Rodimus to convince the other Autobots to check out this site. Starscream couldn’t fault him for his reluctance to reveal that his source of information was a dead Decepticon, but he missed telling people to do something and being obeyed without question.

Without question didn’t mean without complaint, of course, and some Decepticons had refused to listen without a gun in their faces. But at least things had gotten  _ done. _

Eventually, though, a team had been sent out to investigate. Rodimus had wanted to lead it himself, but Ultra Magnus had insisted that he stay behind and safe, just in case it was a trap. After some argument, Rodimus had conceded, and Ultra Magnus had been asked to head the team instead. But Starscream strongly suspected rank had more to do with the choice than temperament, because despite his warning to keep hot tempers away from Slipstream, the other two members of the team were  _ not _ level-headed. In fact, they were the last pair of grounders Starscream would want near any Seeker.

“I’m just saying it’s weird, you know?” Sideswipe said for what had to have been the third time. “Where did Rodimus get these coordinates?”

“From one of the Decepticons he talked to yesterday, most likely,” Sunstreaker said, sounding as tired of his brother’s chatter as Starscream was. “Unless you believe in prophetic dreams.”

“Well… He does have the Matrix now,” Sideswipe said thoughtfully. “But why  _ now? _ Why didn’t it start being helpful, like, three weeks ago?”

Starscream groaned loudly and accelerated, leaving the conversation behind. “I can’t believe my help is being attributed to some trinket.  _ How _ did the Autobots get through the entire war like this?”

The sky offered no explanation.

Slipstream's cave was a lot closer to the Autobots than Starscream had thought it was when he was just teleporting to her location. He assumed that her group had deliberately moved closer to their enemies, perhaps after being passed by a search party. It was what he would have done if travel wasn't an option, and Slipstream had always been smart. It was probably how they hadn't been caught yet.

Starscream felt a little bad for leading the Autobots right to her. But not bad enough to regret his decision.

The grounders transformed as they neared the cliffs, continuing on foot. Starscream popped back inside the cave, once again checking that its inhabitants hadn't left, then returned to the sky to circle the area. He  _ hated _ that he couldn't influence whatever happened next. It was tempting to just leave, so he wouldn't have to watch if things went wrong. But at the same time, the idea of abandoning Slipstream the way he'd abandoned his Trine sickened him.

Things would work out. They  _ had _ to work out. Surely by now the Autobots had brought in enough injured Decepticons to know how to avoid conflict.

The Autobots had clearly spotted the cave. They made a wide circle to approach it from an angle that would keep its inhabitants from seeing them, and Starscream's anxiety only grew when they drew their weapons. He would have done the same had he been in their position, but that didn't ease the sudden fear that they would shoot at the slightest provocation.

As the Autobots drew near, Starscream dropped back to the ground next to the cave and peered inside. Slipstream was kneeling in front of the other two Seekers, her attention seemingly focused on Windfall. She and Dusk spoke in low voices, sounding worried and frustrated, but too calm to have noticed the threat on their doorstep.

"Decepticons," Ultra Magnus called, making Starscream jump and the other two freeze. "We mean you no harm. Please come out with your weapons offline."

Slipstream’s rifles powered up with an ominous whine as she rose up on her knees. “Why should we?” she demanded.

Starscream flinched and shot a glance at the Autobots. Sideswipe was rolling his optics, but Ultra Magnus looked unbothered by the hostile reply. “As far as the Autobots are concerned, the war is over,” he said calmly. “We have no desire to continue fighting.”

“I’ll just bet you don’t,” Slipstream hissed. She kept her weapons trained on the mouth of the cave. Beside her Dusk sat rigidly, staring through the entrance.

“If you come peacefully, you will not be treated as enemies,” Ultra Magnus said. “And if we have any of your friends and family already in our care, you’ll be given the opportunity to see them.”

Slipstream didn’t reply this time, but her wings dipped slightly, quivering. Dusk placed a hand on her arm. She flinched, glancing briefly at him, then looked outside again. Starscream could only assume they were speaking over comms, because Slipstream’s wings dropped a little further.

“What treatment can we expect for our injured?” Dusk asked.

“The best we can offer,” Ultra Magnus replied. “Our medics are working hard to provide aid to as many bots as possible, and I believe some of your medics are helping as well.”

Slipstream bit her lip, glancing at the motionless form curled against Dusk. “Why should we believe you?” she asked, though her voice had lost some of its bite.

“I don’t think there’s anything I could say to convince you to trust us,” Ultra Magnus said. “But your odds of survival, and of reuniting with those you care about, are far greater if you take the chance.”

For a few seconds the two Seekers were silent, perhaps debating their situation over comms. Then Slipstream’s weapons powered down and she let her arms fall. “Fine,” she growled. “We’re coming out. But if you attack us, we  _ will _ defend ourselves.”

Dusk carefully gathered Windfall into his arms as she spoke. Slipstream stepped cautiously to the cave mouth, peering out, and her wings flared when she caught sight of the Autobots. But Ultra Magnus lowered his weapon, motioning for the others to do the same, and the Seekers slowly emerged.

“Ouch,” Sideswipe muttered, having apparently caught sight of Windfall’s missing wing. Slipstream glared at him, but directed her attention to Ultra Magnus when he spoke again.

“As you can see, we have no shuttle. We cannot force you to come with us if you choose to take your chances on your own.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Slipstream sneered. “How do you expect us to transport her, then?” she jerked her head at Windfall.

In reply, Ultra Magnus stepped back from the group and transformed. His alt was a semi with an open-sided trailer, of the sort Starscream had seen humans use to move cars. It didn’t look like the safest form of transport, but at least there were chains attached to the bed to hold its cargo in place.

“There should be room for her,” Ultra Magnus said. “In any case, we don’t have far to go.”

Dusk approached him warily, and settled Windfall in the trailer while Slipstream and the Autobot Twins glared mistrustfully at each other. When he was done, Dusk asked, “And what about us? You can’t truly mean to let us travel under our own power.”

“Unfortunately, we don’t have many shuttles available,” Ultra Magnus said. “We will simply have to trust that you have nothing to gain by turning on us.”

“But don’t think you can get away with attacking anyone,” Sideswipe interjected. “Me and Sunstreaker didn’t spend so many years on the front lines because we couldn’t handle you Seekers.”

“Really? I thought it was because you didn’t have the processors for anything else,” Slipstream scoffed.

“My thoughts exactly,” Starscream said.

The Twins bristled, but Ultra Magnus spoke before they could. “Sunstreaker and Sideswipe. Transform and let’s get moving.” As the pair grudgingly obeyed, he added, “As for you two-”

“We’re coming,” Slipstream interrupted. “You just keep your loose cannons in check. Or I’ll do it for you.”

Dusk put a hand on her shoulder, shaking his head almost imperceptibly. Slipstream glared at the Twins for a moment more, then turned away. The two Seekers took to the air, transforming as well, and began to circle the Autobots as the odd group started off.

Starscream watched them go, feeling suddenly and strangely exhausted. He hadn’t felt anything that might be termed tiredness since dying, but now he felt ready to curl up somewhere and sleep for an orn.

“Well. That went better than expected,” he commented. But rather than feeling better, he just felt more drained. Slipstream’s reaction to the possibility of being reunited with her family made it clear that she hoped at least one of her brothers had survived, and Starscream was under no illusion about which one she would prefer to see. She might not have even spared a thought for Starscream, considering he’d been in stasis on another planet for half the war anyway.

“I guess you got lucky,” he told the retreating jet softly. “Sunstorm will probably be glad to see you too.”

He was reasonably certain dead mechs couldn’t cry. But that didn’t change the burning in his optics.

  
  


Starscream didn’t follow the Autobots back to the triage center. Instead he flew ahead of them, trying to pretend that he could feel the wind against his plating and the gentle tug of gravity on his frame. But while he could remember the feeling, he still felt nothing. It would have been easier to pretend he was drifting in the void of space than flying through the atmosphere. He did feel heavy, but it was a tired, miserable sort of weight.

When he finally got back, he thought himself into Sunstorm’s ward and dropped to the floor beside his berth, slumping against the wall. He didn’t want to move. He didn’t want to think. The only thing he wanted to do was escape into the oblivion of sleep, and he didn’t even know if whatever he was now  _ could _ sleep.

He tipped his head back to rest against the wall and shut off his optics. If sleep wasn’t an option, he was at least going to give not thinking a try.

It turned out to be surprisingly easy to shut off his mind. He wasn’t sure it really counted as sleep, but with no proper sensory feedback beyond the familiar sounds of a med bay, it didn’t take long to slip into a half-aware doze. He stayed that way for some time, listening to the distant voices and activity of a world he could no longer be a part of.

Eventually he was roused by movement above him, and blearily reactivated his optics. A nervous looking medic stood over him, holding a crutch and lowering one of the rails on Sunstorm's berth. Sunstorm shuffled to the edge and peered dubiously at the floor, but didn't speak. In all the time Starscream had spent hanging around Sunstorm, he hadn’t heard him talk to anyone but Rodimus.

Starscream climbed wearily to his feet, then leaned back against the wall and watched. The medic seemed afraid to touch Sunstorm, and offered little help beyond handing him the crutch. Luckily, getting around while damaged was something most soldiers had experience with after such a long war, and Seekers were especially prone to leg injuries thanks to attempts to ground them. Sunstorm had little difficulty heaving himself from the berth, even with one leg still in a brace.

"All right, well… This way, please," the medic said, turning away. Sunstorm hobbled after him, and with nothing else to do, Starscream trailed after them.

“The rules should be simple to follow,” the medic continued. “No fighting, no threats, no… well, any sort of aggression. If you can manage that, I’ll be back to get you in an hour. Does that sound… Will that be an issue for you?”

He cast a glance over his shoulder, apparently familiar with Sunstorm’s reluctance to speak, and Sunstorm shook his head.

“Okay, good. Excellent.”

Starscream sighed and tuned the mech out, uninterested in his nervous ramblings. It sounded like they were heading for one of the rooms that had been set up to allow socialization between prisoners - maybe the mess hall, if Sunstorm was being limited to an hour. If that was the case, Starscream would find somewhere else to be, because high noise levels were physically painful in his current state.

But it was quickly apparent that wherever they were going, it wasn’t to the mess. In fact, they didn’t seem to be heading for any of the social rooms. Instead, they were traveling deeper into the center, to the wards where bots who had largely recovered stayed before transfer to a more secure facility. Starscream couldn’t imagine what they were doing there, unless… Slipstream’s group hadn’t been brought in already, had they? Surely Starscream hadn’t zoned out  _ that _ long.

He looked at Sunstorm, observing him properly for the first time since getting up. He seemed uneasy, so wherever they were going, he probably hadn’t been informed of the details. But he was clearly being allowed to interact with  _ someone, _ so…?

Starscream turned his thoughts to Slipstream, needing to know where she was. A few seconds and some disorientation later, he found that he was, in fact, in one of the higher-security wards. Slipstream sat rigidly on the edge of a berth, arms folded and wings flared. Rodimus sat on a chair across from her, to Starscream’s surprise, and he looked deeply uncomfortable.

“Look, we have recordings, but I really don’t think you want to see them,” he was saying. His optics darted in Starscream’s direction and he winced slightly. “Seriously, I wish  _ I _ hadn’t seen them. It wasn’t pretty.”

Slipstream’s own optics narrowed. “I’ve been fighting this war for longer than you’ve been alive,” she said scathingly. “I’ve seen bots die in a thousand ways. I think I can handle it.”

“Yeah, well, how many of those thousand happened to family?” Rodimus asked.

Starscream flinched. Of course they were talking about him. Slipstream must have at least asked after him, then. Or maybe she’d mentioned that Sunstorm was her brother and Rodimus put two and two together.

“We thought he was dead once before, Autobot,” Slipstream said. “Forgive me for wanting to see the body with my own optics before I believe it a second time.”

Starscream stared at her. Rodimus sighed, rubbing a hand over his optics. “I guess that’s fair. But-”

A door hissed open behind Starscream. Both seated bots looked up, then Slipstream jumped from the berth and strode towards the door. Starscream reflexively moved out of the way, and turned to see Sunstorm limping into the room, wings held high now that he saw who was waiting for him. Slipstream threw herself at him and looped her arms around his neck, heedless of his injuries, but Sunstorm didn’t seem to mind. He just wrapped his free arm around her, returning the hug with equal force.

Starscream averted his gaze, embarrassed by the display of affection, and saw Rodimus staring at the ceiling while rubbing the back of his neck. It was hard to tell if he was embarrassed as well or just uncomfortable with the idea of Decepticons being capable of affection.

“Slagger,” Slipstream growled into Sunstorm’s shoulder. “I thought you were dead.”

“Like I would permit myself to fall to Primus’ ancient foe,” Sunstorm said hoarsely.

Slipstream snorted, but there was a trace of amusement in the sound. The soft rasp of metal on metal drew Starscream’s gaze back as Slipstream disengaged enough to see Sunstorm’s face. “And… Starscream?” she asked, all humor gone. “They’re saying that he’s…”

Sunstorm bowed his head, wings drooping. Slipstream’s wings followed suit, and Starscream folded his arms, stepping back from the pair.

“How?” Slipstream asked.

“It was during his… coronation.” The hesitation on the last word was all Starscream needed to hear to know Sunstorm still didn’t approve of his approach to claiming leadership. “I wasn’t there to witness it in person,” Sunstorm continued, “but there was an intruder. Not an Autobot, I think, or a Decepticon. He had a cannon alt, and… He shot him.”

Shot. Starscream supposed that was technically accurate, though it was far too tame a word for what had actually happened to him. He had been shot before, so many times that it had become routine. It wasn’t the term he would have chosen to describe the storm of agony that had torn through every circuit in his body.

Slipstream shook her head. “No. That can’t be- Starscream wouldn’t have gone down just like that! Not without a fight.”

“He didn’t have a chance,” Sunstorm said softly. “It was so fast, I… I don’t know that he even felt it.”

“You’re lying.” Slipstream turned away, and added a quieter, “You always were a terrible liar.”

She returned to the berth more slowly than she had left it. Sunstorm followed, sinking awkwardly to sit beside her. At some point Rodimus had moved further down the aisle, perhaps to give the two Seekers a semblance of privacy, so Starscream took his abandoned chair.

“You’re right,” Sunstorm admitted, propping his crutch against the berth. “I’m sorry. But it  _ was _ over quickly.”

“That doesn’t help, Storm,” Slipstream bit out, folding her arms over her knees.

“I know,” Sunstorm said, putting a hand on her back. “The knowledge doesn’t help me either. But he’s one with the Allspark now.”

“You wish,” Starscream scoffed. But the words lacked any real venom.

Slipstream scowled and punched Sunstorm’s uninjured leg. “One more religious platitude and I’ll peel your armor off.”

Sunstorm sighed in the familiar, put-upon way he always did when he didn’t feel like arguing with one of his siblings about religion. “Very well. I shall attempt to restrain myself.”

It seemed that Slipstream wasn’t in the mood to argue either, because she just shook her head, gaze fixed on the floor. “So he’s really gone this time,” she murmured.

Sunstorm didn’t answer. There was no need.

Starscream fidgeted, looking around for something else to focus on. It felt wrong to be sitting here, listening to two bots talk about something so painful. Even knowing they were talking about  _ him _ , he still felt like he was intruding on something they wouldn’t have wanted him to see.

Or maybe it was that they  _ were _ talking about him that felt so wrong. They were acting like his loss was… well, a loss. Like he was someone to be mourned instead of cursed and forgotten. Even assuming they didn’t know about his last, greatest betrayal, it didn’t make sense to him. How could they grieve for someone who hadn’t even wondered if they were okay until weeks after Unicron’s defeat?

“Slag it!” Slipstream burst out, punching her own leg this time. “This isn’t  _ fair! _ ”

“Slipstream…” Sunstorm wrapped his arm around her again. She twisted towards him and pressed her face into his shoulder, hands balled into fists against his chest.

“It isn’t fair,” she repeated, voice muffled. “We just got him  _ back _ .”

“I know,” Sunstorm said again. His voice was steady, but his optics were bright with unshed tears.

Starscream clenched his jaw, drawing his legs up to his chest. He wanted to argue, to shout that he was  _ right there _ if they would just pay attention, but… Was he, really? Sure, he was present in a sense, but not in any way that mattered. He might as well  _ not _ be there, for all he could do to tell them that.

“Why now?” Slipstream demanded. “After everything, why did he have to die  _ now? _ When the war was almost- Frag it, he already did this to us once! What gives him the right to do it again?”

“I didn’t mean to!” Starscream protested. Even knowing they couldn’t hear him, he couldn’t stay silent any longer. “I didn’t! It just- I-”

But there was nothing he could say. He’d signed his own death warrant the moment he had the damaged Decepticons thrown into space, even if he hadn’t known it. Slipstream was right to be mad at him.

“It wasn’t his fault,” Sunstorm said. “For all any of us know, he may simply have been another casualty of Unicron’s attack. The Dark God has been known to twist Primus’ creations to his own ends in the past.”

“But why  _ Starscream? _ Why target him?”

Starscream hunched his shoulders.

“I… cannot say,” Sunstorm said.

“You’re lying again,” Slipstream whispered.

Sunstorm pressed his lips together. “I could make a guess, but a guess is all it would be. And knowing why wouldn’t bring him back.”

He did know. Starscream was certain Sunstorm knew who had killed him, and why. He might not have known the exact details of Megatron’s proclaimed demise - Starscream didn’t think anyone who had voted to cast their injured comrades into space would have told anyone about it - but Sunstorm definitely knew it had been Megatron, and that Starscream’s death had been an act of revenge.

And if he knew that, he knew Starscream had brought his own death on himself. He knew Starscream was the reason they were hurting now. Maybe he even hated him for it.

“I didn’t mean to,” Starscream said again, though it was more a whimper this time. “I didn’t know- I didn’t think…”

He slipped from the chair to kneel on the floor, in an all too familiar place of submission, and extended a hand that hovered uselessly above Slipstream’s knee. He let it fall and curled in on himself instead, wingtips brushing soundlessly over the floor.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t want to go. I- I’m so sorry.”

His continued existence had to be a punishment. There was no other explanation for it.

Starscream had completely forgotten there was anyone else in the room until he heard someone reset their vocalizer. “Hey, um…” Rodimus hesitated, and Starscream groaned inwardly. Of  _ course _ it would be the one person who could see him.

“I know this probably doesn’t mean much to you, coming from an Autobot,” Rodimus continued at length. “And I guess it sounds completely crazy, but… For what it’s worth, I don’t think it’s a coincidence that you two are together now. Maybe Starscream wanted you to find each other."

Starscream raised his head, resetting blurry optics. From his place on the floor, he could just see Rodimus standing beyond his siblings, watching them. All three of them.

"That's a nice sentiment," Slipstream said heavily, "but he's  _ dead _ . He can't want anything anymore."

Rodimus shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe not. But if Unicron can be real, why can't better things like our loved ones watching over us be real too? I don't know about you, but I'd hate it if the nightmares were the only true stories out there."

"... Maybe," Slipstream said doubtfully.

"Look, I don't know how close you guys were," Rodimus said. "But I do know what it's like to have things you wish you'd said before it was too late. And if you already thought he was dead once, maybe you said some of it, but if not… It doesn't hurt to say it anyway. I mean, you never know. Maybe he's listening."

Slipstream looked away from him, and ended up staring right through Starscream instead. Starscream dropped his own gaze back to the floor, shrinking in on himself even though she couldn't see him. He wasn't sure he wanted to know what she might have had to say to him.

"Anyway," Rodimus continued. "Sunstorm, I talked to the medics and they agreed to let you spend the day here if you want. Since you two lost a sibling and all. Just take it easy with that leg and follow the rules about not causing trouble, and you should be good."

"Thank you," Sunstorm murmured.

"I have some other stuff I need to do, so… yeah. Maybe I'll see you around. And coincidence or not, I'm glad you found each other."

Starscream wasn't sure what made him look up. But when he did, Rodimus was giving him a small, knowing smile. Starscream tried to glare back, but the effect was probably ruined by the wetness on his cheeks. It seemed that he could still cry after all.


End file.
